


My Body is a Cage

by TheDisc (TheDisco)



Series: Coming of Age [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: (but trying to accept and normalize it), (theyre both trans), Bare Chest/No Top Surgery, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Pre-Canon, References to Unsafe Binding, Trans Male Character, mentions of dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDisco/pseuds/TheDisc
Summary: Ignoring him, Hosea continued.“We’re raised on the narrative that men look this way, and women look that way... That when you look more one way than the other, you should be inclined to change it, and that you should feel downright—downright miserable with yourself until you do.”Hosea motioned to himself. “You have a point, I am skinny as a beanpole, but I also spent too long trying to fit myself in this box or that. I spent years, honest to god years, Arthur, wrapping myself from head to toe in bandages hoping to... Flatten everything out, just like you are, because I wanted to fit this unrealistic standard of being a man. All it ever did was make me miserable in the end.”(Arthur and Hosea have a serious discussion about body image.)





	My Body is a Cage

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my friend john. congrats on catching boy disease and coming out— youre so brave and i love you !
> 
> [My Body is a Cage - Arcade Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhhZdune_5Q)

**1878**

There was a commotion outside Hosea’s window which promptly caught his attention.

Sliding a scrap piece of paper into his book to act as a mark, Hosea craned his neck to look out the window. He couldn’t see much, just a sprawling expanse of pasture, but he did hear voices exchanging words that weren’t exactly pleasant. Moments later, a heavy fist banged on his door.

“Hosea, a word please.” Susan called. Her voice was hard and stern.

Hosea settled back in his chair.

“Come on in. I appreciate you knocking this time.”

There was more commotion as Susan threw open the door. She dragged Arthur in by the ear, scowling the entire time. Arthur was red in the face from throwing a tantrum, no doubt, though as soon as he entered Hosea’s room, he seemed to go quiet.

“Jesus, Susan, what are you doing to the boy?” Hosea asked.

Susan swung Arthur forward and put him directly in the center of the room. It was easy to tell at times like this that he was only sixteen; he was gangly, awkward, and embarrassed-looking, like a kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Go on. Tell him what you did.” Susan said.

Arthur didn’t say anything. He settled for giving them both a dirty, mean glare.

Susan pinched his ear harder. “Go on!”

“Ow! I didn’t do nothin’!” Arthur finally cried. His cheeks turned ruddy red, and his blue eyes cast down to the floor. “Let go of me, woman!”

Hosea winced as Susan reeled back and smacked Arthur upside the head. After that, she released him and let him stand up straight in the middle of the room. He watched the floor as he rubbed the back of his hair.

“Caught him stealin’. Takin’ supplies from our medicine drawer.” Susan explained, crossing her arms. “Spent weeks tryin’ to figure out where all our bandages was goin’. Almost didn’t _have_ any the other day when dumbass-Dutch sliced his palm up, on account of this scamp.”

She turned her glare pointedly towards Arthur.

“Now tell him what you was doin’ with those bandages, mister Morgan.”

Arthur’s cheeks were a fiery red. He looked about ready to either combust, shrink in on himself, or take off running. Hosea patiently waited to see what was going to come of the situation, though he already had a few guesses.

“Go on,” Susan goaded. “Before I lose my patience.”

Arthur shoved his hands into his pants pockets and slouched his shoulders. He mumbled something under his breath, then reiterated, quietly, “I was wrappin’ myself up with them.”

Hosea raised his brows.

“What, like an Egyptian mummy? Little early for Halloween, yet.”

Arthur’s cheeks burned while Susan snorted a laugh. Hosea smiled himself.

“No,” Arthur hissed. He took a few long pauses before continuing quietly, “You know... My chest.”

“Oh.” Hosea said, nodding sagely. “I understand. Thank you for dragging him in, Susan. I can take over from here.”

“I figured you might.” Susan replied. She gave Arthur a hard once over, then smacked his head again.

Arthur let out an, “Ow!” and looked as though he were ready to whirl around and smack Susan back, but a disapproving glare from Hosea kept him in place. The boy stayed stiff and silent where he was until Susan slammed the door behind her.

Hosea then gave Arthur a gracious good minute to say something. When he didn’t, Hosea started talking on his behalf.

“So, what the hell’s the matter with you?”

Arthur’s nose wrinkled.

“Nothin’s the matter with me. What’s the matter with _you_?”

“I wasn’t the one trying to strangle myself.”

“I wasn’t doin’ that neither!”

Hosea cocked his head. He propped his elbow on his chair’s armrest, then planted his chin in his palm.

“Well, whether you intended to do it or not is irrelevant. It’s what you were on the verge of doing.”

“You’re crazy. I was fine, before that woman started hollerin’ an’ pinchin’ me.”

“Lucky that’s all she did.” Hosea commented. “Lucky she caught you, too. If I had gotten you first, I would’ve given you a switching you wouldn’t be quick to forget.”

Arthur’s expression crumbled and took on a mean look. “The hell’s the matter with you? Why don’t you try mindin’ your own goddamn business?”

“Oh, big talk from a big man. Sit your ass down and shut up for a moment.”

Arthur looked borderline offended. He crossed his arms, huffing and puffing as he looked at Hosea. There was a brief battle of wits where Hosea stared the younger down, before Arthur inevitably realized nothing good was going to come of this. With a great roll of his eyes, Arthur grabbed the chair out from the desk across the small room and pulled it over to sit in.

“There you go. So, first things first...” Hosea sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You won’t _ever_ call Susan ‘woman’ again. As far as you’re concerned, she is Miss Grimshaw.”

“Dutch calls her woman, though,” Arthur countered.

“And are you Dutch?”

“Well, no...”

“Exactly. You ought to strive to be a little bit more than him, anyhow. But as I was saying, it’s not safe to be doing that sort of shit to your body.”

Arthur crossed his arms and rolled his eyes again. He sighed, deep and dramatic.

“I thought you were smart enough to realize that, but I guess you’re just young yet. Young and stupid, as it would be.” Hosea reached to the side table for a carton of cigarettes. After shaking one out for himself, he held the package out to Arthur.

Arthur looked at the carton unsurely. Eventually, he took a smoke.

“I ain’t stupid,” Arthur argued, voice a little softer now. “And there’s nothin’ wrong with it. I been doin’ it for years an’ I’m fine still.”

“For now.”

Arthur put the cigarette between his lips. He dug into his pants pocket and produced his matchbook, which he shared with Hosea.

As he struck his match over the sole of his boot, Hosea did the same with the arm of the chair.

“Have you seen those... Cabinet curiosities before?” Hosea asked. He waved his cigarette around as he spoke. “Like the freak shows, except they’ve got... Two headed fetuses in jars and... Whatnot.”

Arthur nodded his head, smoke bobbing between his lips.

“I saw one a while back... Where they had a woman’s ribs on display, just the skeleton, mind you. They were all collapsed and awful lookin’... Said that the woman had worn a corset every day of her life since she was a little girl. Died at thirty-five, I think, from fainting spells. But when they cut her open... They found that her liver had been repressed and just about split in two by her own ribs, because she’d worn that corset every day.”

Something squirmed in Arthur’s belly. He looked between Hosea and his lap, struggling to keep his tense, hard expression.

“What’s that got to do with anythin’, old man?” Arthur questioned.

Hosea shrugged. “It’s just a little food for thought, is all. Not much different, what you’re doing there. Tying yourself down and squashing your ribs... It’s hard to breathe sometimes when you do that, too, right?”

Arthur bristled. “S’ not so bad after a while...”

“Mm.” Hosea took a slow drag. After flicking his ash out, he continued, “So, why were you goin’ through so many of the bandages?”

“I get sweaty and I have to change ‘em out more than usual now,” Arthur mumbled.

“Most would take that as a hint.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I still don’t see what the issue is. Or why you care so much.”

“Well, you’re technically our responsibility now, so I’m obligated to look out for you.” Hosea replied frankly. “But also... I made the same mistakes as you growing up. And more than that, you’re no use to us if you can’t breathe, or if you faint every few hours because you let your vanity get in the way.”

Hosea took another leisurely puff on his cigarette. His eyes turned over to Arthur and rolled down across his frame.

“That’s a mortal sin, you know. Vanity.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This whole conversation was giving him an itching under his skin that made him want to immediately evacuate the premises and go live in the woods. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a serious conversation with his father, but Arthur imagined it might have gone something like this, if he wasn’t such a loser.

Arthur felt like his skin was crawling.

“You think this is ‘cause of vanity? That I’m bein’  _vain_?”

Hosea took another drag off his cigarette.

“If not, why do it? Fancy turning yourself into a cabinet curiosity?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

Hosea waited for Arthur to finish his thought, but by the set look in his eyes and the furrow to his brow, that was about as much as he had to say on the topic. Hosea sighed and rolled the edge off his cigarette. He left it half-finished in the ashtray, and then leaned forward.

“Alright, well, listen to me.” Hosea replied. “What I’m trying to tell you, is that you don’t need to do crap like that. It’s bad for your health. You’re already a husky fella, you’ll do fine to just wear baggy clothes and be done with it. Besides, no one will be paying any attention to your body when you show up at a robbery waving a gun around.”

Arthur sank back in more to his chair. He propped one leg up on the seat, pursing his lips.

“Easy for you to say. You’re so skinny, nobody’d ever mistake you for anythin’ else.” His eyes cast low and he added, “It’s inside, too. I feel like I could die when I see m’self ‘cause it ain’t…” Arthur’s voice dropped, and he whispered bitterly as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “…It ain’t _right_.”

Hosea cocked his brow. He contemplated a moment, then waved his hand.

“You know, I was young once, like you. I felt like the whole world was looking at me all the time and that I needed to adhere to this... Impossible standard just to fit in.”

“I really ain’t in the mood to hear your life story right now...”

Ignoring him, Hosea continued.

“We’re raised on the narrative that men look this way, and women look that way... That when you look more one way than the other, you should be inclined to change it, and that you should feel downright—downright miserable with yourself until you do.”

Hosea motioned to himself. “You have a point, I am skinny as a beanpole, but I also spent too long trying to fit myself in this box or that. I spent years, honest to god _years_ , Arthur, wrapping myself from head to toe in bandages hoping to... Flatten everything out, just like you are, because I wanted to fit this unrealistic standard of being a man. All it ever did was make me miserable in the end.”

Arthur shrunk back in his chair.

“Feels good to do it, though.” Arthur mumbled. “In a way. You understand, don’tcha?”

Hosea’s hands shifted to the collar of his shirt and started working open the buttons there.

“That’s what I’m telling you. It does feel good, but that’s because we’ve learned to hate ourselves the way we are naturally. You ought to feel comfortable in your body no matter what it looks like.”

Usually, Arthur wouldn’t show any kind of vulnerability. Being soft and vulnerable had never served him well before, so if anything, he was completely against it; but he knew he could talk to Hosea about these problems. Even if they didn’t always agree, at least Hosea would understand what he meant, or where he was coming from.

Hosea’s hands kept moving down the buttons of his shirt. Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Uh. Hosea.”

Hosea cocked his brow, but he didn’t stop until he reached his belly. At that point, he sat back, crossed his legs, and let his shirt flop open. His pecs sagged to either side, neither impressive nor notable, and in the pale hollow between hung his gold cross on a chain.

Arthur immediately turned his head and covered his face with his hand.

“Aw, Jesus, Hosea! I don’t wanna see that.”

“You ought to take a good, long look. I’m not ashamed, and neither should you be, Arthur.” Hosea said as he lounged, without so much as a care in the world. “The world can try to tell us there’s proper ways to live our lives, either through laws or norms... But none of it really matters in the end. Do you understand what I’m saying? There’s nothing wrong with your body, and you shouldn’t be under any obligation to change it.”

He nodded his head, as if in deep thought. “Of course, if you’re adamant about covering yourself, we can find something safer than whatever the hell you think you’re doing now. Keep it up the way you are, and one of these days you’ll proper crack a rib.”

Thoroughly embarrassed, Arthur glanced back. He tried to focus on Hosea’s face, though his eyes ended up awkwardly moving around the walls behind Hosea’s head instead.

“I think I’d prefer that. The... Something to cover up with, not the cracked rib. I hate lookin’ at myself sometimes... You know? It just feels... Wong. Like sittin’ here in front of an old man with his shirt open.”

“Confidence is a learned thing. We’ll get it in you eventually.” Hosea said, and then scoffed. “’Old man’… This could be your future, too, assuming you don’t pass out and drown in a puddle due to your own stupidity. And if you stopped eating for a month straight.”

“That’s... Real poetic, Hosea.” Arthur replied, cracking a small smile. His eyes settled on the ceiling as though it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Can I... Go now? I think I’d rather have Miss Grimshaw beatin’ me.”

Hosea pursed his lips, hummed a little. “I suppose I can’t hold you hostage. Go ahead.”

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly, he jumped up from his seat and put his back to Hosea. He made for the door almost in a sprint.

“Just— remember what I told you, okay?” Hosea called, his voice back to serious. “All of that. I know it’s hard, but... Keep it in mind.”

Arthur paused with his hand already on the doorknob. “Right. You got it.”

“I’m not kidding. And don’t let me catch you trying to wrap yourself up again, or you’ll be sorry.”

Although Hosea couldn’t see it, Arthur gave an embarrassed little smile. He cleared his throat as he let himself out.

“Okay. I’ll catch you later, Hosea.”


End file.
